


you wear it well

by ratpoet



Series: Hem & Fall [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dresses, M/M, Makeup, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratpoet/pseuds/ratpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dex has a thing for dresses.</p>
<p> Nursey has a thing for Dex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you wear it well

Black lace dress. Crumpled rose paper. Empty white bag.

_Bang bang bang.  All of the shots. All of the fucking shots_.

So he likes dressing up, **so what?**

And it starts with the bloody lace dress. Just lying there on the bed, like a body sutured to a morgue table, like a _poor_ _defenceless thing, you, you beauty_. He doesn’t think of all the ways this is _so bloody weird, you fucking **creep**_. He doesn’t- think.

No. Black lace dress. Crumpled bed sheet. And the full length mirror.

It’s even his favourite bloody colour.

[He never gets invited to Haley’s house again.]

________

There is a glass bottle on his table. Lipstick stains on the rim.

He could- it’s _supposed_ to turn him on, yes, she left it there so he would make a move on her already, make a fucking move already, so he- it’s all right. He _is_ turned on. It’s working, it’s cool.

So his brain does not catch up. Close your eyes, all the ways this is _wrong_. He’s not thinking of her lips, he’s thinking of her lipstick. Thinking of what that would taste like, the red coating his lips.

He puts his mouth on the bottle and presses his head to the mirror.

________

Window shopping.

That’s a thing.

He has a lot of girl friends. And they always drag him along when they go visit the shops downtown, and honestly, the way they model the fucking dresses- Dex keeps falling in love, a little.

Like, there’s Linda, and doesn’t she just have the right fucking body, the silk sticking to her skin in all the right places. She tightens her belt and there’s something about the _rustle_ of the material, it’s like she has a second skin and it’s been this dress all along.

And there’s Maeby, always so _pop pop_ everyday is prom, but when she wears that watermelon shade, like all of summer squeezed into one sundress, it’s- he could ask her out just to run his hands over that.

He smiles at them, they blow kisses at him, and he always asks to carry the bags.

It’s not just chivalry.

________

He has this tube of mascara that he nicked from his sister a while back. It’s wrapped up in one of his dirty pairs of boxers, and hidden under the mattress. He doesn’t take it out often, but he thinks about it. Black liquid drip-dropping off his eyelashes. Black liquid staining his cheeks, smeared across his chin.

He doesn’t take it with him when he leaves for Samwell.

________

“Chill, Dex,” Nurse says, and Dex almost punches him.

Hockey’s gonna be hell.

________

The jerseys are bright maroon. The fabric feels rough on his hands.

“Just put it on, man,” Nursey says from behind, and it’s not like he wasn’t going to, but now he isn’t going to.

“What if I don’t,” Dex says, turning around and looking Nursey right in the eyes.

He doesn’t miss the way Nursey’s eyes flick towards his chest, or the way he bites his lip.

Dex crosses his arms dramatically. His chest is bare, and it kind of reminds him of that time years ago when he’d- well. His chest feels bare.

“Then don’t,” Nursey smirks, raising an eyebrow at Dex. Dex lets his hands fall to his chest. He kind of wants to clock this kid.

He takes a step towards Nursey, but Nursey just shrugs and turns around to leave the room, and Dex wants to claw his skin off.

Deep breath out.

________

“I mean, I just don’t get how people can like makeup,” Farmer says, as Chowder nods along enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” Dex chokes out. There’s this word in his chest, or words, something about makeup being another skin or a way to wear art. There’s a constriction in his gut, how close he is to blurting that shit out, how he can't really swallow.

“Nah, man, it’s nice. People making an effort, or whatever. Taking things a notch higher,” Nursey says, smiling at Dex.

“Why are you-“ Dex begins, but there’s nothing in Nursey’s smile. It’s just one of the smirks he keeps throwing out at Dex, always ready with the subtle challenges.

“It’s not about that. So many people wear makeup just to, like, hide their flaws, and it’s kind of sad,” Farmer says, shaking her head.

And maybe it’s that, but there’s also the feeling of cream against bare skin, the levelling out of soil, the screaming colour of it all, the- **_fuck_**. He doesn’t- stop _thinking_.

“Hey, makeup can be art in the right hands,” Nursey says, shrugging. And he’s so fucking _chill_ about this, like he likes it when things are painted over, but Dex still can't breathe properly.

________

They keep watching chick-flicks at the Haus. Movie Night Saturday. It’s supposed to be ironic, he figures, but Bitty loves this shit and Shitty doesn’t complain anymore.

And he’d be fine with it, he would, but there’s so much _shopping_.

And the shimmering dresses they wear to prom, _all the sleeves rippling,_ so decked up with makeup and necklaces and fresh bright skin, _embellish polish smooth gloss_ , the way they move across the dance floor, _twirling and twirling and falling,_ skirt gown straps **silk** \- it’s, he’s started to just stay in on Saturdays.

________

Dex feels groggy. Like he just woke up, except he never fell asleep. He’s in his boxers, and everything’s slow, or whatever, his brain isn’t working today.

He wants to smash a bottle over the headboard. He wants to drive his body into somebody else’s. He wants to take that dress his roommate’s girlfriend left in their room, that bloody shining fabric running ripples down an ocean, he wants to take it and throw it in the shredder.

It’s black, Jesus. Who buys black for a _wedding_?

And it’s still got the tag on it.

“Dex, man, you need to speak up,” Nurse says, and ouch. Ouch. Nursey’s sitting on the floor, he forgot about that, and Dex mumbles when he’s ashamed and _how fucking drunk is he, exactly?_

“Nothing,” Dex says, pressing his face into a pillow. It still smells of that girl’s perfume. He’d say his roommate’s a lucky guy, but that girl, can't even keep a dress safely, can't even keep her perfume soft. Needs to get a grip, honestly.

“Were you talking about that dress again?” Nursey says, bored. Dex presses his face further into the pillow. He can't- fuck. Fuck. The buzz is wearing off now.

Now.

“When did I ever talk about a dress?” Dex says, voice so fucking high. The buzz is fading so fast, man.

 “Only since I came over, dude,” Nursey laughs. His face is so flushed. Nurse never shows ‘drunk’ the way Dex does, but there’s this- flushed skin.

Dex presses his legs into the mattress. Shittiest time to get hard, seriously.

“Like, just put it on already,” Nursey says, and Dex freezes.

“What did you say,” Dex says, his voice low. **Put it on already**. A mirror and roses, new black lace.

_Stop_ _thinking_.

“It’s a pretty dress, you're a pretty guy,” Nursey shrugs, then bites his lip. His eyes flick to Dex’s, and his cheeks go red.

“Yeah?” Dex says. His mouth is dry. It was _such_ a pretty dress. Hanging off his skin, slightly, but it was a puzzle. The sliding kind. The best ones, the old puzzles, they never fit perfectly, the pieces always  a little crooked. But manoeuvre in, and – checkmate.

“Tina would understand,” Nursey continues, and why the fuck is he even talking. Dex’s mind is so slow. Twirling and twirling and the _feel_ of the fabric. So tight and soft and – complete.

“Give me the dress,” Dex says, and his throat is so dry. He isn’t sure who’s speaking.

“Wha- oh,” Nursey says, surprised. There’s a thing in Dex’s stomach, dead butterflies or whatever, and they all drop. He can't **think** and _was Nursey actually **chirping** him_ , the _bastard_ , his chest is freezing and his brain keeps going ‘ _bastard bastard ba’_ -

‘Okay,” Nursey says, getting up and pulling the dress out of the bag. He hands it to Dex and Dex shrinks away, but he’s made his bed, and it’s _right there,_ in front of his fucking face.

He takes it in his hands and it’s always so goddamn _soft_.

“Put it on,” Nursey urges, voice scraped. Dex looks up and Nursey’s eyes are on his. He can see the faint outline of his dick through the fabric of his jeans.

And it’s that, maybe. When he’s not drunk, when he needs something to blame- it’ll be that.

Dex pulls his shirt over his head before he can think about it. Goosebumps erupt over his skin, and all of him feels bare.

He’s always liked that feeling.

Dex pulls the dress on in one fluid motion. It’s his exact size, falls over his skin like fresh snow, the chest a little too loose. He’s okay with that, likes it even. He’s okay with this. He’s not thinking about it. He keeps his eyes on the wall as Nursey reaches a hand out to pull one of the straps in place, and he’s-

He’s wearing a fucking _dress_.

“You’re so-” Nursey begins, running his hands over the sheer fabric at Dex’s sides, and it’s- okay. He can breathe. Everything’s a bit crooked, and his skin is still standing on edge, but he can breathe.

Manoeuvre in, and it’s complete.

“Dex,” Nursey says, and Dex pulls him in with one hand. When their lips meet, his body melts away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun. Let me know what you liked and what you didn't, y'all.


End file.
